


BLACK OUT DAYS

by BIRDB0NES



Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: AFAB Bloodhound (Apex Legends), Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Basically Mirage being a clown - but a cute one., Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gore, Hurt/Comfort, I am not good at tags please send help. 911 emergency I don't know what I'm doing, Mirage - Freeform, Multi, Nonbinary Character, Revenge, Violence, must protect baby
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-16 19:06:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28836051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BIRDB0NES/pseuds/BIRDB0NES
Summary: AU -TW CH1: Sexual assault, rape mention, transphobia, needles, semi-graphic violence, death.TW CH2: Mention of sexual assault, guilt, emotional distress and mental health, physical health, smut.In this short story, we explore the slow unhinging of Bloodhound after their sexual assault, and the slow descent into raw rage when Mirage figures out just exactly what happened.Chapter one contains the action and ultimate destruction of the character, while chapter two works to rebuild what is broken and find intimacy between them once more.
Relationships: Bloodhound & Mirage | Elliott Witt, Bloodhound/Mirage | Elliott Witt
Comments: 4
Kudos: 37





	1. BLACK OUT DAYS

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW CH1: Sexual assault, rape mention, transphobia, needles, semi-graphic violence, death.
> 
> Chapter one deals with a reclusing Hound and Mirage determined to discover why - upon such discovery, things take a turn into a bloody fit of rage and retribution. Elliott loses a little of himself, but to him it's well worth the sacrifice.

" _Nothing is wrong._ " _Nothing was ever wrong_. But _everything_ seemed to be.

"I don't understand." Mirage cooed the words softly, sitting on the edge of the bed, one foot up on the corner while his other channelled every ounce of his anxiety as it bounced wildly against the floor. "It's been months, I've been watching you -" decay - disintegrate, dissolve into the darkness? Mirage knew what depression looked like, and even on someone as unwavering as Bloodhound, the stench of misery was unmistakable.

" _Nothing is wrong._ "

It seemed like that was all they could say anymore. Every movement was the same - as if they were playing on repeat, as if they were a mechanical husk of themselves, a ghost haunting the hallways and holding onto some shred of normalcy.

elliott had lived nearly the last year watching this magnificent creature take to the battle, alive with the thrill of the hunt. But now each match seemed to slump their stature all the more, as if Hound was keeping the battle on their shoulders - _a weight too heavy to carry_.

"If you don't want to talk about it, it's okay - I just want you to know if something is wrong... I love you, _I'm here._ " Honestly, he'd been struggling with the feeling that he'd done something - that he'd fucked up somehow. That a joke went too far, that a comment was too stupid, that he wasn't honourable enough to be worthy. elliott was at constant war with himself, and this had only fueled the fires.

**_If only he'd known._ **

"elliott." It didn't sound like it usually did - it wasn't the same honey and ambrose that sweetened their tone, this time his name was flat, full of sorrow. "This is not good for either of us. I let you go. This was a mistake."

A crescendo of shattering stained-glass windows, the cry of doves being shot from the sky - elliott didn't know what a heart breaking sounded like, but he was becoming increasingly familiar with the way it felt.

"A mistake." He parrotted, hands coming to meet the edge of his fraying sweater, wrapping fingers around stray threads so tight his skin shifted to a cool blue. ' _I didn't mean to._ ' - he thought ' _I'm sorry for whatever I said._ ' - the last few shards of heart that hadn't stabbed into his ribcage were beating like furious drums, casting a cherry glow across his face. "I'm sorry." Was all he could muster - he didn't want to force Bloodhound to do something they didn't want to do anymore.

Standing from there, Mirage struggled to keep his tears from staining his cheeks with all the begging he wanted to do. He ached for nothing more than to fling himself mercilessly at the feet of his lover, begging for another chance to do better - _to fix his mistakes_. But, if Mirage was the mistake, then he knew leaving would be better. Bloodhound deserved nothing less than perfection.

"I'll go." There was a false smile, a sheep in wolf's clothing - he forced the wide wolfish grin, but anyone looking close enough could see the lamb accepting the slaughter was coming.

"Just..." a hand at the door as he headed to leave, a shrug, a soft whimper that was disguised as a cough. "If there's anything." There was no room for jokes, no stumbling over himself - that version of himself was buried beneath the weight of his words. "I'll always be there for you if you need me. If you change your mind about - I mean not us, that's okay, if you need space... Just, if something else is wrong."

It still felt off, it felt twisted - his stomach churned and rolled. " _You know where to find me._ " There was a stupid little wiggle and a set of fingerguns before he spun away from the room, unable to hold it back any longer.

The moment he was out of earshot, those stifled whimpers became hideous crying.

* * *

"It's weird right?" Octane bobbed his head to the music playing over the speakers - the aftermath of a battle was always a wild party, and Mirage was usually the life of it. A televised event where people got to watch their favourite heroes bask in the glow of the win, or the shame of the loss.

"Aye leave it be." Lifeline shrugged a little, feeling as if none of it was her business.

Only two days had passed and the battle had been different this time. Mirage had lost early on and spent the next few hours curled in his chair watching the games with a bowl of chips in his lap - and hadn't moved since. It was abnormal, and people had started to talk.

"So why aren't you over there with y-" An elbow to the rib from Ajay told Octane to shut up. He took heed and spun away, rushing to find another drink.

"Don't you be minding him now, he just don't always know when tae' stop runnin' that mouth yeah? He like them legs, they don't stop." She offered a smile and a hip bump to the side of his chair, trying to console the very obviously distraught version of Mirage. "But if there be sometin' I am a good listener." Shortly thereafter with no response, she scuttled over to find Octane downing speed-bomb cocktails at the bar.

It was nice that she cared but Mirage was too lost in his own world that he'd noticed neither comment. His head was spinning over what he could have done wrong, playing days and nights back over in his head and trying to dissect when it all went sideways.

" **Just another win for Crypto, Wraith and Loba! If you've been watching, this is the same dream-team that took the Championship win five months ago at King's Canyon.** " There was daily training, weekly arena skirmishes, monthly games: a series of battles that spanned the entire weekend until the main, the creme de la creme - the twice-annual battle royal games that really brought in the views. _Mirage hardly cared that they were just around the corner, and that tomorrow was the last game of the season until the championship next month_.

The voice on the TV brought him out of his haze and curious eyes cast upward to the large screen that was displaying today's winners while playing highlights from last month. Only in this moment did Mirage realize he'd not seen Bloodhound that whole weekend, _which was abnormal_. Sure, sometimes he didn't get partnered to his love but it was rare he'd go a whole event, let alone a full weekend, without seeing them even once in battle. Those moments were always so fun, catching glances from across the arena, throwing quick smiles and dreamy eyes before pretending they hadn't noticed one another.

From there his mind wandered wildly - a string of things that didn't make sense started to knit themselves into an ugly sweater. _But then where had they been?_ How had they finished so close to first place but there were no highlights of their undeniably impressive self? _When did the strange behaviour start_? _Just after,_ ** _immediately after_** _,_ in fact, the end of the weekend had been the start of their downfall. He could remember the twisted forced-grins ( _he'd perfected them himself_ ) and the jolts whenever he'd reached out to touch Hound. All of it was coming together but this was the most confounding clarity he'd ever had.

Hours of thinking later and a concerned tap on the shoulder made for a startled Mirage. He lurched out of his seat and up to his feet. "Yeah, sorry. Huh?" He fluttered over his thoughts, letting the chaos settle for just a moment. "Sorry am I in the way?" He'd not even noticed the room had cleared out, everyone had slithered off for the night.

"Maybe you should go for some sleep, cher?" Nathalie cooed in that little tone of hers. That soft dove-like melody that matched her aggression in the amount of none.

"Oh, thanks. Yeah I should. I've just been busy thinking about how amazing I am." He hopped into that hideous pose he did for the camera. "Thanks." It was exhausting being the clown most days, but today was... More.

"Alright mon amie, please rest yourself for tomorrow yes? I cannot be concerned for you while trying to win, Mirage. You did not so well today." She meant the best.

"Yeah I just haven't been sleeping well. It's okay, I'll sleep tonight." He wouldn't.

Instead, he'd spend the night wracking his brain for little signs, for everything he could remember, for the reactions Hound had been portraying these last few months. Nothing came up, nothing made sense - a bad game, a broken limb, an argument - it could be anything and all elliott could figure was that **_something_** had happened, something bad enough to make Hound recluse away from everyone and everything. In this moment elliott ached, but less for his own broken heart and more for the way his lover had been breaking to pieces that he couldn't seem to fit together.

Before he knew it Mirage was waking up to the blazing glare of sunlight pouring through his still-open window and the violent screech of sirens noting the one hour mark til the battle would begin. With hardly an hour of sleep under his belt, today would be more of a struggle than usual. But he wouldn't allow himself to bring dishonour to his team.

* * *

Sixty legends stood in the drop ship, packed in like sardines, watching the hole in the bottom of the ship curve open as they clutched the hanging supports.

The screens above the hole would show three faces on each, dividing the heroes into twenty teams and as they flashed, teams chose to jump when ready. _Crypto, Wraith, Revenant_. _Wesker, Wraith, Bangalore_. As names rattled down the list, they'd check their meta-data cards on their wrists and watch for the tick-mark beside their names on screen indicating their data was saved for revival after inevitable death.

Dying and being reprinted as yourself - _but not yourself_ \- was always a weird concept. Mirage had come to terms that his body was not his own, but a copy of a copy - he was always the same, but always a little different. It had been horrifying at first, the idea of potentially leaving his husk behind and his mother without a son. But thanks to the magic of science, these weird little cards, a databank full of biometric scans and the respawn ships that flew around printing the fallen, _that would never happen_.

Rocking on his heels, Mirage anxiously waited as group after group hopped off the ship - unable to keep his eyes off the screen, and by way, Hound who stood just across from him. _There's no way. There's no possibility. It wasn't going to happen. It couldn't._

 **Lifeline.** _Only three teams-worth left._ **Mirage.** _Only three teams-worth left._ **Bloodhound.**

"You've got to be kidding me." He said it louder than he meant, his focus shifted instantly to look at Hound who was staring back. "I didn't..."

"We goin!" The leader ping flickered over Lifeline and off she went - both he and Hound following shortly after. She'd ping her landing location and they'd stay on her heel like loyal dogs. He'd learned to trust Lifeline with - well, _his life_.

The next group landed shortly after, _Fable, Caustic, and Trickshot_. It normally wasn't a big deal for people to land so close together - they'd either wind up in some violent fist fight, scramble for guns and supplies, or both teams would scatter to the wind. Two of three turned to run off but when Mirage looked back over his shoulder he saw Bloodhound deadset in place - not moving, hands to their sides, body rigid and still like a standing corpse.

"Ajay!" He called to her, pinging her back to their partner before kicking dirt up behind him as he cast himself forward, wasting no time closing the gap between them.

For a moment he watched the three running off into the distance before they hopped up onto a zipline and disappeared into the sun's blinding glare. For the most part, they were nowhere - middle of a sandy drop that people mostly avoided for its lack of supplies, so the fact Trickshot ( _their team lead_ ) had decided to follow so closely was a little strange. That, and the moment Bloodhound paused was the moment the other Legend had shoved past them like something within them had been triggered... It didn't matter at the moment, _he'd worry about oddities later._

"Hey!" Mirage snagged a shotgun as he approached, slapping it over his back and using both hands to tug at either of Bloodhounds shoulders - there was no reaction, there was nothing, no quip, no jolt, no fucking soul inside this body. " ** _Bloodhound!_** " The name wasn't said in the same loving way he was used to speaking it, the screech felt foreign on his tongue, bitter with fear and rampant concern.

" _Babe._ " He softened, shoulders dropping and eyes moving dizzyingly fast, scanning for any sign of anything. A twitch, a flinch, a fucking breath. " ** _Please._** "

It was like a flip had switched and for just a moment they reacted - a slight nod upward, proof of life, and somehow that was enough to tell Mirage there was, without a shred of doubt, **_something fucking wrong_**.

"Take them back." Mirage said it softly at first, Lifeline canting her head to the side in confusion, going to question the idea. "Take them back, **_now._** " A demand instead of a request, voice cracking in frustration. This time, she didn't bother to question - she smacked the emergency recall button on their trackers and with that they dropped a zipline to return to the ship.

This didn't happen often, only when things went terribly wrong. For legality, and maybe humanity, they had to have an emergency recall option but people knew better than to use it just to get away from a bad situation. Normally a team disqualification would flare across the screens, normally the death-toll would up by three. This time, just the two. **_Mirage was staying behind_**.

elliott was fueled with - well, he didn't know what. Whatever the emotion, it was something new, something he'd never had to bite down on before - he didn't like the way it tasted, the way it made him feel. The list of what Mirage knew in this moment was short and started firmly with: fi _nd out what happened to Bloodhound, and make it okay_.

Clue number one, **_Trickshot_**.

Trickshot was this burly beast of a man, thick black greasy mane, sharp blue eyes, thick face with a wide set stance, bigger than Caustic and smellier too. He reeked of a male superiority complex and most people disliked the cocky bastard on the best of days. Sure, Mirage had his moments - "ladykiller", big tough smile, happy and funny, life of the party, show boy kinda guy - it was all a facade for the show, _and he was never cruel_. Trick, however, wasn't putting on a mask - this was his real face. On more than one occasion he'd watched Trickshot take all too much pleasure in dropping people and ripping them apart with his exploding bullets.

Maybe elliott was chasing a wild hare with this one, but he didn't know what else to do and starting somewhere sounded better than drowning in this pool alone while Hound suffered in silent solitude. But he couldn't do it alone.

This was a risk, but Bloodhound was worth it. Creeping through the arena, hiding in buildings, under tables, dodging everyone he could while stuffing any supplies he could manage into his pack. An Eva-8 and a fully kitted Flatline, two medpacks, a decent enough armour pack and some goodies sitting at the bottom of his knapsack, Mirage was doing all he could do to survive in the ways his love had taught him.

" _Listen for footsteps._ " In his head he could hear Bloodhunter's voice, behind the mask, speaking softly and calmly as he rest his back against a corner wall beneath an overhang, heavy steps above his head. " _Wait til they pass._ " So he did.

With only three syringes at the bottom of his bag, he couldn't waste one on the bullet he took to the shoulder - _just a flesh wound, I'll have a cool scar like Hound's_. He'd need these if his plan went south, if the others weren't willing to help - **nothing was going to stop him**. Well, _nothing but death_ \- and even then, he'd jump right back into the fray if he had to.

 **There they were!** Wraith, Bangalore - _he knew he could depend on them_. He hoped he could depend on them.

Only problem? _Wesker._ ****

"Mozambi-" a flurry of bullets ended the sentence quickly, gushing a fountain of blood and sending Wesker to the ground.

" _Sorry_." Mirage whispered while rushing by his crawling form, headed toward his friends. _There are no friends in the ring_ \- normally that rule rang true, but in this moment he had to hope friendship was higher value than glory.

"Guys!" Mirage called out, yelping and recoiling as Bangalore shot him square in the leg - "Holy shit why are you so good at that-" without second thought he sent out a gang of clones that would play a soft buffer, giving him enough chance to explain... _Maybe_. But on the off chance they didn't listen, his hand was busy prepping a grenade from the bottom of his pack.

"Please just listen to me, I need your help, this isn't a joke." He wasn't known for being serious, he was doing his damndest to be clear and concise.

"Bullshit, don't play with us. **_Remember the 9-22_**?" Bangalore shot a clone, popping it in place, sending little sparks of holographic dust spiraling into the air. He didn't have many chances left at this.

" _Haha yeah that was funny_ \- **no** \- please. I'm not playing with you." The pang of panic in his voice was real, rumbling and weighed down with the pressure of the situation as he limped in a stupid circle, all clones rolling along with him.

"I don't buy it, magic man." Wraith was ever suspicious, friends or not. Another clone popped with the pistol shot.

"Okay - _I_ -" He didn't have much choice. He stopped in his tracks, all clone halting with him - ten seconds left as he stood still, hands in the air, grenade in one. He could feel the clones starting to flicker out of existence.

"Something is wrong with Blood, and I know Trickshot has something to do with it. I don't know what, and I need your help. I can't do this alone." A tear slipped slowly down the cheek of each clone, but none as sorrowful as the one on his own. "I'm begging you." He dropped to his knees, ready to roll the grenade toward them if he had to.

"You're not shitting us are you." Bangalore slung the spitfire over her shoulder, furrowing her brows.

"Are they okay?" Wraith lowered her guard, only slightly.

Bloodhound was a staple in their little community, as distant as they were at times, the beautiful soul beneath the mask was a shining star to many of them. Their stories, their lore, their willingness to train others, to teach others, hype up teammates, their evident caring toward those when they needed it most. Bloodhound was amazing, and everyone had been watching that light slowly die.

"No." He steadied the grenade, placing the pull pin back in - he trusted them.

"They have been off lately, ain't even wanted to spar." Bangalore stitched her brows tighter in genuine concern while Wraith seemed to shift uncomfortably.

"I - Tell me what you need." She stood straighter, for elliott.

"I need to find Trick." A bullet cracked behind him, making him jump - the sound originating from Bangalore's sidearm.

" _He couldn't come with us_." Wes's card lay on the ground waiting to be snagged. "If we're going to do this, we've gotta get moving while Trickshot's still up. Last I saw them they were due south, about a click and a half. The plan is take down the other two, get Trick to the floor and I'll let you do the talking - you're good at that much." A backhanded compliment but Mirage was thankful for Bangalore's wisdom in this. "But first." Bangalore was the first to rip her feed-cam from her chest and toss it down the nearby canyon. The other two followed suit.

In that moment they became closer friends.

* * *

Stitching himself up after the third hailstorm of bullets he'd been at centre of, Mirage was running low on energy _and_ med-kits. " _C'mon, c'mon, c'mon._ " he injected the syringe of nano-bots through himself and cringed at the feeling of them wrapping his veins back together and stitching his skin into place. "Never get used to that."

" _You do._ " Wraith tugged at her sleeves, her own needle scars throbbing in memory.

"Sorry - I didn't - I'm just sorry. You didn't deserve any of that." He'd not meant to come off insensitive, but his already lacking filter was lacking all the worse.

" _Thanks._ " She genuinely felt valid in that moment.

For the next hour a silence washed over the party. Solidarity in their own sufferings.

**_-_ **

" ** _There._** " Bangalore pinged an enemy in the distance, Trickshot and Fable - Caustic wasn't in sight just yet.

They sat, they watched - the duo ran around gathering and collecting, topping up their shields and Caustic was still nowhere to be found.

"I'll take care of this." Bangalore stood, launching a violent strike of missiles thunking forcefully to the ground. "Move in!"

The three of them slipped down the waving hillside, bodies thunking against rocks and flying through the air when hitting gaps in the ground - Mirage never enjoyed this part, but his bruises meant nothing in the grand scheme of things.

A moment of concern flooded Mirage - maybe this was all out of proportion, maybe it was silly and reckless - it wouldn't be new. Maybe he'd end up finding more questions than answers, or ones he just didn't want to hear. Trick might be innocent, Hound might just genuinely hate elliott and here he is on some fools mission? **_NO!_** The thought was stricken from his mind. **_Something was wrong_** , he could feel it in his bones.

By the time he'd screwed his head back straight, Mirage was in the middle of a whirling storm of bullets and violence. Bangalore was an amazing shot and with ease had taken Fable to the ground and was holding Trick to the earth with her foot planted firmly to the centre of his spine, crushing him into the mud.

"I hear you can fly." Wraith taunted Fable before picking him up and launching his body through a portal that led off the edge of the canyon.

"Ask your questions, we don't have much time." Bangalore heeled in harder, keeping him flush.

"Thanks." Mirage approached accusingly, unsure of the situation but doing his best to come across as intimidating. "I don't have time for games, just tell me what I want to know." He crouched, arms heavy over his bent knees, resting for just that moment.

"You mean about that little bitch, right?" he laughed, knowing _exactly_ what Mirage wanted. He wasn't even ashamed - he felt no regret, he felt no remorse. "What's the big deal, buddy, your bitch doesn't want you anymore after us?" He howled in laughter, seemingly not caring about the foot digging him deeper in the muck.

" ** _Don't call them that._** " Mirage grit his teeth, fingers tapping the dirt.

"Don't call her what? A bitch?" _There it was._

" **Don't.** " elliott was filling with a fury he was unfamiliar with - Bangalore seemed to agree, the tip of her gun quickly met the back of the beasts neck in disgust for their lack of respect.

"You're just jealous she doesn't want you no more - she's gotten a taste of what a **_real man_** is, and she don't wanna run back to a nasty little fairy like you." A guffaw of sickening pride made it all click.

" **Oh God**." elliott had no time for pain, he'd choke it down for another day, this wasn't his time to grieve. "Who else."

There was a silence in the arena, like everything had faded out into a faint hum - he couldn't hear Bangalore hurrying him for lack of time, Wraith seething in the background, Fable sputtering his last few breaths - it was only Mirage and Trick in this moment.

"Ain't telling you shit other than she fuckin' liked it. Maybe she'll learn to pretty up from now on." He grunted, the words splitting into splintered screams with a bullet to the shoulder from Bangalore.

"Let me." Wraith stepped in, dropping to her knees and waiting for a sign. The nod from Mirage was enough - hand shifting out of this reality and disappearing into the hefty man's chest, ghostly fingers curling around his thumping heart, giving it a soft squeeze. Trick screeched in agony as response.

"I can keep you here forever, I'll hold you in this moment until you decay into dust. Don't test me, Trick. You've seen what I can do and you know how I feel about people _like you_." She spoke in a calm tone, pastel compared to her normal neon edgy rasp. She was soft, **_she was horrifying_** , and Mirage had never appreciated her more.

" ** _Let go!_** " A scream, begging tone whimpering for release.

"I won't. Ever." She fluttered her fingers against his heart.

"Wiley and Henchman! Wiley and Henchman!" Trick screamed before Wraith let go, his body instantly dissipating, leaving nothing but his meta-data card behind. The second place team from that game before everything had started to shift - Wiley, Henchman, and Trickster - **_he should have known_**.

"I -" He slumped, his body going numb, his heart thumping up into his throat and into his mouth, blood was boiling so violently he could hear it in his fucking skull. "I -" He couldn't begin to imagine what Bloodhound had been going through these last few months, suffering silently and alone. Mirage felt horrible - he should have pushed, right? He should have stayed there and been more - he didn't know, he'd never been in a situation like this and Hound hadn't been ready to talk. " _What..._ " The hand on his shoulder pulled him into reality.

"Let's find them." Wraith didn't skip a beat.

"We've got time." Bangalore seconded - the both women exchanging glances, stifling their own rage for the pain of their friend. This would not be forgiven, justice would be served in a gory show of violence.

"Yeah." elliott stood. It didn't matter if Hound never spoke to him again, it didn't matter if they weren't going to get back together, if this wasn't going to make him a hero. What mattered is that these scumbags weren't able to hurt Hound, **or anyone** , ever again. It was the right thing to do, he rationalized - he'd never killed anyone before, not really, not for good. This seemed like a good place to start.

The whirring engine of a retrieval bot caught him off guard. "NO!" Mirage shouted, reaching out and snatching the data-card before the bot could. They were tasked with grabbing all the cards for those who weren't returned to ships - sure, they had backup data, but pulling from there meant a lack in memory and a lapse in time. This was the ideal way to revive a player. He'd need these for later - so, it was safely tucked into the zipping pocket under his chest armor.

* * *

"You know why I'm here." Mirage sat on Wiley's back as Bangalore and Wraith stood guard outside the door, ready to defend his vengeance with their own lives.

"Of course, the game, but get it over with already man I'm itching to get back to Riya she's waiting for me on the ship!" He squirmed under him, kicking his legs in desperate ache for a freedom he'd never feel.

"Bloodhound." elliott spoke the name in a new way again, rage dripping from his lips, anger coating his tongue. It tasted like metal and gunfire, a taste he was getting used to.

"I - don't know what you mean." He stumbled, he stuttered.

"You sure fucking do." Mirage didn't cuss often, the words were ones his mother would chide him for.

"I - shit - listen man, _it was just a joke_." Wiley tried to reason - not that it mattered. He figured he'd be back soon enough. "Just get it over with, we can talk about this after. It ain't that big of a deal just some fun you know?"

" **No.** " The card was pulled out and shown to the other Legend, waved around like a kill trophy. "I don't."

"Wait what! Let me up! This ain't funny ma-" A splatter of skull and gore hit Mirage in the face and like fucking warpaint, he wouldn't wipe it away.

"You're right." elliott dug through his pack for anything useful. "It wasn't funny."

No hesitation this time he snatched the card and pocketed it with the other. They would both ride around with him until he knew just what to do - the plan was still formulating, he was running on pure adrenaline and brain power was lacking more than usual.

" **Next.** " He stood, looking to the door, rolling his head side to side in a series of cracks, his own bones settling into place.

"I had eyes on Hench, let's go." Bangalore nodded toward the exit - only six teams left, this was getting harder.

By the time they found the trio there were four teams left and the circle was closing.

"There he is." Bangalore pinged to the man they were searching for, wandering alone two buildings away from his team. "We'll deal with them, you go. Might not have much time, if we go down don't come for us. Get done what you need done."

In sync, they pat him on a shoulder each - it was somewhat relieving to know his friends had his back, no matter how strange the situation.

"Hey - Thanks I really owe you -" He was midway through when Wraith hushed him.

" **No.** This isn't for you, you don't get to thank us. This is for Bloodhound. We're just being good friends to them, you don't owe anyone a thing. **_Go._** " And with that, they were off through a portal and the violence began.

The sound of falling missiles jutting and exploding in the dirt was hard to ignore as the kill counter rose - numbers dropping, bodies hitting glass like flies.

Mirage was one track minded, setting his clone off, distracting Hench and watching them spiral in circles while trying to hit his fakes. " _Over here._ " He'd tease, ducking a punch, watching a clone pop to a bullet. He took a couple himself, one in the right forearm, one through the ribs on his left side - pain didn't exist in the moment, only the thrill of the hunt. He was channeling every ounce of Bloodhound that he could.

A tweeting bird-whistle from behind Hench had him spin on his heel, meeting the muzzle of a P2020. " ** _Bamboozled._** " Double tap - _as Bangalore had taught him_. Instantly his old body folded to the ground like a broken doll - he struggled to pull up his shield, blood dripping from his face. Outside the arena he'd just be dead - but the way their bodies were coded with nanobots, the to-be-fatal wound bought them a minute on the ground, maybe more if they were lucky.

" ** _W-W-W_** " Was all Hench could slur out, muttering his confusion in the form of a singular letter stuck on repeat.

" _Shhhh._ " Mirage moved closer, dropping his guns, listening to the announcer stating - t _wo squads remaining_. He frowned a moment, knowing this meant his friends had met their end and it had been at his request. He'd thank them tomorrow, _somehow_.

"Just me and you, sitting here. And you don't even know why? I'll give you a hint." Just like with Wiley he pulled out the cards, waving them in his face. "Any final words?"

A wave of realization washed over the fallen Legend - they had nothing to say, they knew exactly what was happening. " _Tell my m-_ "

 **Mirage didn't care**. Mirage lacked the amount of empathy required to feel anything in this moment.

A fist to the face: crack of teeth, jaw snapping, knuckles splitting open in a waterfall of crimson. Fist to the face: nose buckling, cheek concaving, bone splintering in his hand. Fist to the face: face to the floor.

" **The Champion has been awarded.** " The announcer boomed, fireworks went off, little drones buzzed around the arena collecting cards as the storm pulled back.

His body ached in ways it never had as he stood, cameras circling him - he couldn't pose, just gave a lazy thumbs up to whatever fans were watching the shitshow, all the while stuffing the cards back into his pocket. _He wasn't done_.

" **Winner: Mirage. Kills: EEEEEEEERRRrroOOOorrrr. Arena shutting down in 5 - 4 - 3 - 2 - 1.** " And everything went dark. Apparently, the system didn't know how to handle the chaos that Mirage had caused. " **Emergency evacuation beginning.** " By the time he knew what was going on, Mirage found himself back on the retrieval ship, having taken the zipline on autopilot.

"elliott..." A familiar voice cooed, Wattson looking at him with the greatest concern. "Perhaps you see medbay, yes?"

"Not yet." He gave her a feigned smile like he had last night, this one bloodier.

* * *

Limping through the hallway was agony - with every step his body shot sparks of pain through each nerve. It was like they were on fire, salted and left out to dry in a hot wind. It didn't matter, none of it did, everything was numb in that way that he couldn't muster enough energy to care, he just had to focus on making it to the end of the corridor.

" _Just get there, just get there. It's almost done, you can rest soon._ " He pep-talked himself, dragging a smear of blood through the hallways.

The plan was all coming together.

 **Part one** : Destroy the fuckheads. Well, find them, and then destroy them. _Check_.

 **Part two** : Have Crypto erase them from existence, erase their entire meta-data from the storage banks, make sure The Syndicate can't bring them back no matter how fucking much they try. _They'll just play it off as them abandoning the games - wouldn't be the first time someone just disappeared._ It hadn't taken much convincing, just the slight implication that the trio had assaulted someone and Crypto was in all too eagerly. _Check._

 **Part three** : A soft push to a semi-open door, fingers digging to his pocket. "I just need a minute and then I'll get out of your hair." Mirage stood upright, steadied himself, smiled through the pain and played it off as any other game. Truth was, Mirage wasn't just worn from the physical pain - but he'd done something he could never take back.

"I -" elliott stumbled forward slightly, one by one snapping each of the meta-data cards, watching their pictures freeze in place on the screens as they did. Each, he'd toss onto the desk, bloody fingerprints visible. "They won't be coming back. Ever." He spoke softly, calmly, blankly.

"You're safe now." elliott nodded, wiping a stream of blood from his face as it coasted over his right eye. " ** _I promise._** "


	2. TRUST MYSELF

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW CH2: Mention of sexual assault, guilt, emotional distress and mental health, physical health, smut.
> 
> Chapter two revisits some of the aches and agonies that chapter one brought about. Both Elliott and Hound struggle to convey feelings properly, but ultimately find comfort in one another.

“ _It’s fine._ ” _It wasn’t._

Mirage’s room was messier now - not that it had ever been anything comparable to clean, but it hadn’t been like this. Before it was magazines and discarded clothing strewn wherever they may fall… But this reflected his total lack of interest in just about anything. Whether it was the guilt or the pain devouring him whole, he’d just not had the energy to upkeep himself, let alone a room.

“Why did you not allow them to heal you?” Bloodhound was concerned, and rightly so - just days ago Mirage had been admitted to the ward for his extensive injuries, and here he was still beat to shit and looking like he’d ran through a grinder. 

“ _Scars are cool_ . I hear they build character.” _What they do is remind you that you ended a life - three lives, in fact._ What they do is wear on you like a memory that shouldn’t be forgotten. What they do is stitch their names deep into your skin so when it pulls tight you can still feel them in your bones. What they do is remind you that you’re human, and life is fucking fragile. 

Fingers flexed along the edge of the wound, curling against sore red skin - Mirage wasn’t used to allowing himself to heal naturally, not anymore. Sure, he’d let them fix up his ribs and adjust the crack in his spine, but the surface stuff… _That had to stay_ . It needed to - there had to be some proof they’d existed, some reminder of the man he became **for just that round** \- and with luck, never again. 

But now Elliott knew what he was, and what he could be when push came to shove. _A killer._

It wasn’t the same as it had been; conversation didn’t come fluidly and for Mirage that was unknown territory. There was a distance now and it was one that felt to be growing with every beat of his heart. As if each gaping wound was a chasm of space between them and even with stitches keeping it all together, Elliott could feel the dangerous depth, just there, beneath the synthetic fibers holding his skin tight. He felt like it was waiting to devour him whole. _Maybe that was just the guilt._

“It’s alright.” He softened, allowing fingers to pull away from the cut on his forearm and tuck into the strappy band on his pants. “Honestly, they’re not that bad. Figured I’d just let them heal on their own - been a while since I’ve done that.” A wrinkled scar shifted with his crooked smile - he’d kept _those_ for different reasons. 

Funny how the two couldn’t communicate the simplest thought anymore. Elliott wanted to keep them to remember what he’d done, and Hound wished he’d heal the memories away altogether. Elliott was wrought with the guilt he’d killed people, that he’d done this - and Hound hurt the same; but only because Elliott suffered in their name. This wasn’t a weight meant for his shoulders, and yet he bore it without even having been asked to. 

For a moment, at the thought, Hound smiled beneath the mask - only slightly, only insignificantly. Tired lips tugged into the softest little smirk, knowing that they were truly cared for. This is what loyalty felt like, and they knew the taste. The upturned corners fell swiftly, a shudder of fear rolling through their spine. The agony of loss was so much more when love was involved -- another taste they’d come to know, _perhaps too well_.

“So.” Elliott shook his hands, pushing off the sofa and starting to pace. This was the first time they’d had to talk in days - back on the ship, alone in his room, the buzz of a big win still in the air. 

Most people were headed home to see loved ones, wandering the tourist traps wherever the boat headed, or planning for the games next month. Elliott should have been training, but he just didn’t have the strength - it had only been shy a week now, and his mind hadn’t been able to wander beyond the edges of the last game. Something about waking up in a cold sweat every night, shaking and sore from tense muscles just took something out of a guy. 

“Listen.” Elliott had practiced - he’d written four speeches, he’d gone over it maybe a hundred times now, knew it inside out, upside down, backwards and around again. In this moment, the only words he could remember was I’m sorry. 

Catching his reflection in the mirror, Elliott had to stop, turning with furrowed brows to look over the vision of the man he was supposed to be. He didn’t recognize himself right now. 

“Guess I’m just going for it.” There was a hint of seriousness to his tone as he cast his attention from the stranger in the mirror to the stranger on his bed. “Maybe I overstepped. Maybe I shouldn’t have just - but something was wrong, and you wouldn’t tell me. Not that you owe me anything - I get why you didn’t - couldn’t? That doesn’t matter, it comes down to the fact that I knew something was really wrong when h-brush-well you know.” Thinking about it was a struggle. 

Everything was still fresh. He could taste the bitter dry air of King’s Canyon, he could smell the dust and the dirt, the muck and the mire, the stench of vile bodies dripping with sweat. Nervous fingers curled along his hair, playing with loose strands. “I could tell someone hurt you - _I didn’t think it was that_ . But I just needed... We couldn’t let them do something like that again. Not to you, not to anyone else.” Elliott was in a flurry, words splattered violently and he could hardly form sentences… _Not that it was anything new._

Thinking about it made him see nothing but red - his vision glazed over into a hazy blur of memories that would haunt him endlessly, playing like a crimson reel every time his eyes closed. The blood on his face, the tang of copper in his mouth - he paused, closing his eyes, taking a deep breath and centering himself. 

“I wanted to help.” Maybe he had, maybe he hadn’t - he could hardly tell if he’d done the right thing or not. He’d weighed the ups and the downs, he’d justified the means - but his opinion didn’t really matter -- it was Hound’s thoughts that would condemn or save him from the Inferno. “I _thought_ I _was_ helping.” 

Elliott looked to his desk, a clutter of papers that paired a pros and cons list - fifty different sheets at least, he’d been wracking his brain over all this and even if, at the end of the day, Hound hated him for everything he’d chosen… Well, he’d do it again to keep them all safe. If Hound hadn’t been able to fight them off, he couldn’t imagine what would have happened to _Wattson… Wraith… Lifeline…_

“I’m trying to.” Hands both rushed through his own hair, breaking up the twisted pattern into a messy lump of loose curls. “I hated - I hate seeing you hurt. Even if you don’t…” _Love me anymore_. 

“I do.” The hunter spoke with confidence - they’d never known so pointedly that someone meant so much to them. The question had never been if they loved Elliott, but if they were deserving of his love in return. 

“I didn’t know that’s what would happen. I didn’t think it through. I just saw you freeze, I saw them trigger it, and they told me what happened. It all crashed together and that was it. Then I was back here. And that’s why.” Elliott stuck out an arm, poking against the stitches where Henchman had managed to stab him. “I’m not getting rid of these. They make it real, they remind me it happened. I can’t forget, I shouldn’t forget. I didn’t just kill them, I erased them, and I’m not sorry for it.” 

“Elliott.” Hound had been listening intently - not just to the words he’d spoken, but the ones he hadn’t. The ones that were caught in his throat and couldn’t form into words, the ones that still lived deep in his heart and clawed desperately for freedom. The ones that Elliott didn’t have to say out loud. “Rest, ástin mín.” Their hand pat the edge of the bed, calling him over. 

In their own way, they were broken - their body recoiled at touch, the sound of feet running by them made them tense. Their trust in the others around them had dwindled to less perhaps than it ever had been. And yet, Hound felt a sense of peace - a sense of belonging. They knew that there were those amongst them that were truly what was considered a friend - or, maybe _family_. 

“You need more rest.” They cooed the words, even through the distortion of the mask Elliott could feel the softness behind them. “Your wounds do not heal if you do not allow them.” They meant, of course, the mental as much as the physical. 

“This doesn’t have to be about me.” Elliott paused, realizing his pacing may have been frustrating. “This shouldn’t be about me. I made a choice. I did what I did and I have to live with it. You didn’t choose…” He choked on it, it stuck like burrs; his eyes went wide and wet, distorting his vision. 

“What you did was honourable.” Hound declared - something they would have done for anyone else, in fact. Without question, without second thought. “You have nothing to feel guilt for - but the fact you do says much about you as a person, Elliott.” 

They both froze for a few moments, each thinking on their own pain and how to cure the other’s. This was the first time either of them had truly had a moment, a safe moment, to reflect and search their souls. 

* * *

**_CONTENT WARNING: NSFW._ ** _HOUND’S BODY IS AFAB IN THIS FIC AND DESCRIBED IN SUCH TERMS._ _PLEASE NOTE WHILE I USE AFAB TERMS IN THIS FIC, I DO NOT CONSIDER HOUND TO BE AFAB OR AMAB CANONLY IT’S SIMPLY THE HEADCANON THAT EXISTS BETWEEN MYSELF AND THE PERSON WHO I DEVELOPED THIS IDEA WITH._

* * *

Minutes passed in that silence but it felt more like days in suspended animation. That place between life and a twisted simulation of it; they could sense the hint of reality in the air, but things beyond the room didn’t exist in any tangible way and time was nothing but a concept neither of them understood. 

When things snapped back to reality, there was a sigh of relief that was breathed in tandem, as if they were once again aligning. That maybe in the days, weeks, and months to come they could get through this chaos together.

“Can I?” Elliott lifted a hand, aching to feel the touch of their skin again. It had been so long since he’d just been able to… 

The question's answer came with the rest of Hound’s jaw against his palm - the mask was popped off and tossed gently aside, as if they’d been aching just as much. 

Maybe **_this_ ** is what they needed - _each other_ \- not a quick fix, not just to talk it out, not to come to some solution for the problem, but a comfort shared, because both of them knew the only thing that could heal these wounds was time. _Not that they didn’t need to work it out, not that they should bury the ache and ignore the thorns_ \- but rather just **_in this singular moment_ ** the solution **was** this. 

Both of them melted into the moment, both of them dissolved into the affectionate touch. Elliott stilled his hand, trying to control the tremble of his arm - the weight of a cheek had never been so heavy. 

“I just want to tell you that -” Elliott started but was quickly hushed with a wind-like humm. 

“You do not need to speak so much, lítill fugl.” They kept eyes closed and head rest as they spoke - their tone mimicking that of reassurance rather than scolding. As if to tell him that the silence was okay, and he didn’t need to fill it - something Elliott struggled to accept. 

Elliott nodded, allowing air to fill his lungs and his voice to stop filling the space. Instead of words, he’d speak with his actions - a tentative thumb ghosted the curve of Hound’s jawline, resting at the hinge and drawing a line back to their chin. For a while, he’d continue the circle, leaving it unbroken until his thumb slipped along their bottom lip.

The distance between them had been this void sucking all happiness from his smile - and while now Elliott understood, he’d been blaming himself this whole time. As if everything he touched just withered and died, curled away from him and refused to grow like he was salted dirt. It was always how it went when he actually cared about something - _and wow did he care about this particular someone._

Knowing all that had happened, Mirage didn’t want to be too forward and for a moment he feared he’d done too much - that was until he felt the soft return of affection in the form of a slow kiss at the pad of his thumb. Elliott shivered, his muscles tightening and forcing his heart to beat rhythmically - he’d missed this, he’d longed for this, he’d fucking ached in every inch of his body for this. 

It took everything he was to not start sputtering words like an abstract painting, but instead he lurched forward, the hold against Hounds cheek shifting to that of needy possession. Whatever needed to be said would be conveyed through the deep kiss that Mirage pressed to Hounds lips. A tentative moment kept him still, refusing to push the action further, _but the moment Hound leaned into it_... 

Elliott allowed the seconds to slip by normally, time wasn’t on pause anymore but playing in full colour, _with subtitles_. Everything that had been too hard to say was translated into a thousand languages as lips parted and breathing rolled in sync. It was like every emotion they’d been reserving poured through the kiss and into each other, the realization that despite pain or feelings of doubt, their hearts were still bound together and navigating the dark was easier with the light of your life by your side. 

“I-” Elliott’s mouth was promptly smashed back into the hunters; there was no room for words between them, it’s not what either needed. He would have to find a way to convey it with action: a needy grip of his fingers against curved jawline, a hand slipping to grab desperately at the fabric along Hound’s side to yank them closer, the whimper of relief that broke as lips did. 

**The silent ways to say I love you:** _Elliott was still learning to speak his actions louder than his words, but he thought... maybe he was doing a good job_. 

He could taste his heartbeat on his tongue as it rolled in stormy waves against Hound’s, pulling him further from shore - and this time, Elliott had no anchor, he would drift as far as the sea could carry him and if he should crash on the rocks… _Well, no sweeter a death than by that of a siren_.

There would be no pause, only confident movements that shifted Elliotts hands to fumble with ever-frustrating gear that Hound wore. Latches, straps, clips, zippers: there was a fortress of clothing between them and his rising temperature threatened to erupt and melt it all away into volcanic aftermath scattered on his bedroom’s floor like ash. 

A nervous wreck he was, but the confident fool was a card he knew how to play. Climbing further onto the bed, knees to the edge of the mattress while finally shedding the last layers that covered Hound’s upper half - Elliott’s was easier, clad in that hoodie and t-shirt that was now a slump of material over the edge of the computer chair. 

He’d watch for trembles, signs of regret and fear, any signs to slow or stop - there would be no second question, Elliott had learned the signs that they just couldn’t - even when they wanted to, sometimes their mind couldn’t allow. Tonight, there were none - tonight, where Elliott feared pull back was only the push forward of their body to seek comfort from Elliotts bare flesh. 

They were a work of art - a chiseled statue masterpiece, marbled flesh with lines of battles won, each a new story rich in pain and glory. In their early days, Elliott could remember Hound refusing to talk about the scars, pulling away from curious fingers, hiding themselves from loving glances - but now Elliott could trace from one end to the other, leaving whimpers rather than agonized huffs. 

In the background engines roared, people laughed though the hallways, and music blasted from three doors away - but here in the pseudo-silence, all that could be heard was the rapid beating of two hearts, the soft hums of relief and the methodical thrumming of the broken fan that hung above them. 

The embrace continued to deepen, a hand holding the base of Hound’s neck, the other gripping needfully at their side. He leaned in, crushing his chest tightly against theirs, leaving no room for ache of past days to exist in the spaces between them.

Strong arms swept for a graceful descent to the bed; Hounds back to soft plush as Elliott positioned himself, breaking the kiss in favour of trailing along their neck. Dutiful kisses were pressed along their jawline, coasting the swan curve of their neck and following the slope of shoulder - each was a prayer of its own, as if he were worshiping a deity. _Honestly, maybe he was_ \- Hound was the closest thing to a god that Mirage had never known, and his service was offered eternally unto death. With any luck, whatever heaven waited for Elliott was in the form of the body before him. 

Hound shifted and it caused a glance from Mirage, gaze quickly darting to meet theirs, seeking approval and it was found by way of a soft nod; nervous, perhaps, but clearly needful. A smile in response before returning to his duty - driving them to the edge of nothingness where they could exist in this moment without the glare of anything else.

Glowing with passion, Mirage allowed his warm kisses to ghost down the centre of Hound’s chest, hand slipping to start undoing and removing their pants; another puzzle itself. Busy fingers curled into buckles and plucked at buttons while his mouth traced their breastbone; one kiss at a time until reaching their stomach and back up before switching attention to a nipple. 

The light in the room was dim, but Elliott didn’t need much in the way of vision. He’d mapped Hound’s body to memory from the first time he’d been allowed to see them. His kisses were pointed and placed with ease, tongue swirling to tease at tender flesh, fingertips working through layers and finally dipping beneath to seek out their radiating heat. 

How do you say I miss you without words? Elliott was finding ways. _It’s been too long_ \- his kisses trailed lower, reminding foreign flesh that this was home. _I’ve been aching to hold you again_ \- his body tensed at contact, muscles sparking like tesla coils and allowing electricity to dance throughout him once more. _I missed you -_ fingertips danced along soft folds like this was the first and last body he ever wanted to touch. 

They’d been here so many times before but never had there been so much tension. **_Play it cool, Witt_ **. His focus was split; tongue busy tracing around their nipple while his fingers teased gently to slip into welcoming warmth. There was a sigh of relief against warm flesh - Elliott had wondered if he’d ever be allowed to touch his love again but the soft whimper and sudden hand gripping at his arm washed him with absolute solace. He was simply happy they felt safe and comfortable enough to welcome his body back to theirs. 

Two digits would glide in rhythm, curling upwards to massage at the velvet soft ridges inside them while his thumb curved in an arc back and forth atop their clit. His own body would be ignored; he pined in unimaginable ways, craving nothing more than to feel them again, but fuck if he wasn’t going to take his time reminding Hound how much he adored every inch of them. 

The tender torture lasted what felt like ages - his body panging with lust in response. With each of Hound’s whines, Elliott would press himself firmly against the mattress, seeking some solace from the tightness winding within him - but if anything, it would only further frustrate. In turn, Hound would rock upward into the touch out of desperation. 

More than willing to heed the call, Elliott would give as they were silently asked; the bucking of hips meant they desired for **_more_ **. The attention paid so diligently to their breast was broken in a series of soft suckles before kisses would trail in a jagged line along the centre of their belly. Those faint pecks would become long laps that parted warm lips, tongue taking the place of his thumb. 

The sensation of his warm, wet tongue caused a low mewl from Hound. Whether Elliott knew it or not, Hound had missed their touch all the same - _if not worse_ . The last body they remembered feeling against theirs were ones they wanted to rid from their memory. Mirage, and his **_magic hands_ ** as he called them, were what they needed to wipe away the lingering echoes.

As he lapped hungrily and their taste flooded his tongue like sweet ambrose, Mirage lost himself in a haze of euphoria. His mind spiralled into the nothing, leaving no room for a singular thought beyond how much he adored their thighs quivering against him. With each draw of his tongue they’d shiver all the more, which only pushed Elliott to work all the harder.

Normally he’d tease a little, pull them toward the edge before easing up, coaxing those little whines of need from them. Tonight would be different, he’d urge them onward, pushing them into sweet serenity and refusing to stop. Arms curled around their thighs, yanking their body flush, tongue tirelessly playing through the waves of pleasure washing over them. They wiggled, jiggled and whimpered with ecstasy, legs crushing against him, hips rocking upward in return, a reward for his worship. 

“ _Mirage._ ” They managed amidst the throws of bliss, the name falling in a breathy huff. Sometimes they still used his stage name - but they spoke it in a way no one ever had before, like it fit him better. 

Hound needed more of him, all of him. They ached for their lover’s body to envelop them in the love they’d been depriving themself of and for the first time in far too long, Hound felt they deserved the love that Elliott wanted to give them. 

The words fell into the silence, dissipating into the emptiness of the room. He was so busy in his crusade that he didn’t notice the grip shifting to a slight tug. 

“Elliott.” They spoke like Sirens sang. 

Realization hit like a truck and Elliott softly broke contact, pulling back slightly and glancing up at Hound from between their legs, eyes stary and wide with wonder - God they were ethereally beautiful here under the dim glow of the blue alarm clock. He looked, but he didn’t speak - just a rise of his brow in a curious way. 

“Please.” They called to him like a sailor to the rocks and Elliott was entirely willing to throw himself into the waters. 

There it was, that crooked smile that spoke every I love you that he hadn’t been able to say the last weeks. There was no hesitation as he tugged his pants away, stumbling slightly as they fell around his ankles and were kicked under the bed - he resisted the urge to do a superhero pose. It was funny when he did, but in the moment he felt no need to mask his nervousness with a joke. Elliott simply felt safe being himself - _even if that self was clumsy_.

Elliott would paint this moment with every ounce of passion he had within his body. Hands each sliding up a leg from hip to knee, parting them slowly and curving back down to their inner thigh as he shifted back onto the bed and between them.

Pausing a moment, allowing for Hound to ask for him to stop if need be, Elliott simply watched their face beneath that dull azure glow. It cast the softest shadow onto their body, the sapphire tone bringing out the freckles that were peppered along otherwise pale flesh. Every scar, every blemish, every rise and valley of skin pulled tightly over muscle - _how he’d come to earn such favour from the Gods and be given such a perfect creature to love, he’d never know - but never question_.

His mother had always believed in soulmates, and that Elliott would find his. _In this moment, he knew he had_. 

When no sign to stop was shown, Elliott leaned in, a hand propping between them so he could guide himself to their centre as his other rest to the bed as support. There was a long, low hum from Mirage as he pressed himself against their cunt, the sensation of their heat overwhelming. 

With slow pressure behind his push, Mirage pressed his hips forward, seeking closeness from Hound. He hummed again, eyes fluttering closed as he urged deeper, feeling their tightness envelop his length. His heart raced, head rushing with blood and thumping at a dizzying speed. Every inch of Mirage’s skin was skittering with electric fire as it came into contact with Hound’s, which only made him want for more.

The first few thrusts were slow, allowing for them both to get lost in the moment and be consumed by the heat of each other. Mirage lowered himself, chest to chest with his love, arm curling to lift and support their head as they leaned in for a desperate kiss. 

Lustful tongues met and danced fervently, as if they craved to devour one another whole. Lungs and hearts began to work in sync, bodies becoming a tangled mess of where Elliott began and Hound ended. The two fit together like a perfectly carved puzzle; Elliott was sure his body was made for theirs.

Minutes flew like a blur on the face of the clock as they stayed there, tangled and melting into one another. Each moment drawing moans and whimpers between the two of them that filled the room like an orchestra. Thrusts quickened after some time, hips crashing with theirs, drawing near fully out of them before pressing cock deeper with each buck. Mirage could feel Hound’s body respond to each movement and it encouraged his pace all the more. 

Mirage could feel his body tightening like coils, and the like with Hound’s - muscles tensing, fingers scratching, loud groans through the gasps for air. Their bodies worked rhythmically, each responding to the other’s with like-response. Hound would tighten around his cock, drawing him to thrust harder and faster, working to bring rapture upon them both. 

Like a well played symphony, their bodies both syncing to the metronome pace, each drew nearer to climax. Mirage crushed his body closer, allowing movements to be methodical and quick until the crescendo hit. The kiss deepened and embrace tightened as Mirage thrust his last few times, cock twitching as their cunt tightened around them, ripples of pleasure overtaking them both. 

The roar of pleasureful thunder softened into a trickle of summer rain, their lungs heaving in their chests, the kiss finally parting as they rest entwined still. Hound’s body responded still, tightening and releasing it’s hold on Elliott’s cock until everything came to a halt. 

For a moment he refused to move, supporting his weight and simply enjoying the closeness. There was a collective sigh - in tandem they’d inhale deeply and exhale a long, slow huff. Only then was Elliott able to allow his body to part theirs, flopping onto his side and pulling his lover close, peppering kisses at the curve of their shoulder before settling onto the bed. 

The two entangled in a different way - they became a mess of limbs. Mirage curled on his side with an arm around Hound, Hound with a leg between his two and head nestled up under Elliott’s chin and for some time they simply lay there enjoying the company of one another. Their breathing calmed, their hearts slowed, their pulses returned to normal. 

Fingers, like the trained dancers they’d become, pranced up and down their forearm, pouncing from one freckle to the next, tracing them out like constellations. 

“It will not always be easy.” They felt safe now. They felt at ease now. But Hound knew that some wounds healed, but scars always remained. There was a moment of self consciousness as they reached for a blanket, pulling up around their waist and using it like a shield. 

“I know.” Mirage said, pulling another sheet up to cover himself, but not breaking the small barrier created. Elliott didn’t _need_ this. Elliott just needed them. “We’ll go at your pace.” He wasn’t sure how to find the words - they were ones he didn’t know, the magical type that could fix this like an abracadabra. He was a magician sure, but he’d never learned how to make things like this disappear. 

“I love you, Elliott.” And they did - more than they’d ever expected, more than they thought possible, more than they thought they could show. 

“I love you too. We’re going to be okay.” It was spoken like an oath of safety, a reassurance of patience, a promise he intended to keep. Elliott cooed against the top of Hound’s head, placing a kiss onto their crown and closing his eyes. _Time was still little more than a concept - for all Elliott knew, it had been days. For all Elliott cared, it had been years. But all Elliott was sure of is that he wanted to spend forever here, with them._

**Author's Note:**

> This is definitively an AU setting with my own twists on what the world is. This plot idea was thrown violently at me by my best human and designed to destroy them. 
> 
> There will be a continuation, a part two in which the duo talk through and explore how to move forward.


End file.
